


Captus Est Libidine

by e_p_hart



Category: La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast, Original Work
Genre: F/F, Growing Up, POV Second Person, The Scholomance, Vaguely Fairy Tale World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_p_hart/pseuds/e_p_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I am no simple Beast,’ I growled, ‘waiting to be sated with mere human flesh; no, what I want and offer is far greater than that. For if you choose to remain here, with me, you will die; and slowly. However. If you choose to deliver one of your children in your stead, they will have the opportunity to rise far, far above any common dreams you might have had for them. They will have the chance to study, and learn, and grow; and when the time comes for them to leave, they will have their chance. But be warned: they will face all twelve and one of my doorkeepers; they must defeat all; and the last cannot be defeated.' I threw him away. ‘You will have one month to decide. I will come to collect you if you have not returned.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captus Est Libidine

**Author's Note:**

> Amor volat undique,  
> captus est libidine. [...]  
> tenet noctis infima  
> sub intimo  
> cordis in custodia;   
> fit res amarissima. 
> 
> "Love flies everywhere, and is seized with passion. [...]   
> She harbours the depths of night shut up in her inmost heart.   
> It is pure bitterness." 
> 
> ~ from Carmina Burana

Though you brought death with you, you were always wanted. Your mother died giving birth, and you, the youngest and only daughter of twelve, were named auspiciously: ‘Fortuna,’ fate, the mighty empress of all humanity, who rules too broadly for the ants to see the greater foundations, the inexorable mechanism, or to hope for any sense of mercy. Cruel, inhumane, but only because she operates on a lofty vantage, far from the dusty toils and snares of lesser men. Yes, you were well named, Fortuna, and you then were no queen of your own fate.  
  
When you stood before me that first time, wet and shivering and desperate and afraid and desperately trying not to show it, I could see your father in you. He cowered before me in much the same manner, lost and half-drowned, stuttering apologies and platitudes. For such a learned man, he really was quite foolish, to so blindly accept hospitality without pondering the price. There is always a price.  
  
I gave him a choice: one of his own in exchange for his life.  
  
‘One of my children!’ he exclaimed. ‘I could never be so cruel...’ But I could see his thoughts, see him consider you, his youngest and only daughter, his surplus property, so young and untried; but he, he  was older, and had too many responsibilities to attend to, and perhaps, _perhaps_... ‘I cannot. I could never,’ he said at last.  
  
I bore down upon him, monstrous in shape, cruel sharp claws pricking at his arms where I clutched and shook. ‘I am no simple Beast,’ I growled, ‘waiting to be sated with mere human flesh; no, what I want and offer is far greater than that. For if you choose to remain here, with me, you will die; and slowly. However. If you choose to deliver one of your children in your stead, they will have the opportunity to rise far, far above any common dreams you might have had for them. They will have the chance to study, and learn, and grow; and when the time comes for them to leave, they will have their chance. But be warned: they will face all twelve and one of my doorkeepers; they must defeat all; and the last cannot be defeated.' I threw him away. ‘You will have one month to decide. I will come to collect you if you have not returned.’  
  
He opened his mouth to beg and whine, and I roared at him. I watched his retreating back with no small satisfaction: it had been such a long time.  
  
And so when you, untried and untested and unkempt little Fortuna, when you stood before me that first time, wet and shivering and desperate and afraid and burning with the desire to prove yourself, I saw your father in you, and I saw what had taken place when your father had returned home, how he had cried and argued and threatened and changed his mind any number of times, and how you had waited beside your brothers (so tall and proud and haughty, and old: your closest brother was already a score and five), how you waited and plotted. You had already learned there would be no glory there, not that you really wished for it: five brothers were already missing limbs and appendages from foolish wartime ventures; two had spent time in prison due to gambling debts (and they came round too often to beg for money); and no one would speak of the eldest brother, lost to memory and shame. Your father had overreached himself, and won and lost a hundred fortunes; and wasn’t that what had caused this whole affair? He had been traveling to a distant land to view a slim investment venture when he crashed upon my island; and now he was tormented.  
  
Your brothers were not interested; they were cowardly and slow, fat on their own small contentment; but you, as I saw when you glared up at me, hands blue and lips blue and breath white against the air, you _burned_. You were left alone too long to grow in the darkness and the dust and the books, and you watched and you waited, and now this was your chance. You were never going to make a name for yourself otherwise, not in the hard, uncaring cities of teeming humanity. My island was as forgotten as my name, and that mystery set you dreaming, ravenous for the adventure.  
  
So you waited as, one by one, your brothers refused and went away, thanking your father for his efforts and reminding him not to forget to review his will before he left. Your father grew smaller and older, and when at last you were alone, you came forward and brought him low with humiliation. He wasn’t a bad father, as they went; just distracted and distant, too concerned with other matters to bother himself with one little girl who had killed his wife; but he still neglected you, and you noticed. Well, you would make him notice you now, and you offered to go in his place, citing the slim chance of escape, the riddle of the twelve doorkeepers and one.  
  
He was too willing to be convinced, and you hoped that the guilt would poison him as you climbed the steps to my palace, soaked from the necessary swim to the shore; that anger lasted until you reached out a hand to knock on the gates, and they swung back untouched, unaided. Now more cautious, more anxious, and even a little regretful, you stole through my gardens, hardly noticing their beauty and delights, fixated on your goal: the palace that loomed before you, stone heavy and dark, a veritable fortress.  
  
At last, you stood before me, much like you do now: shivering and desperate and afraid and heartbroken and desperately trying not to show it, blinking in the sudden gloom, flinching back when you first saw me, not because I frightened you, but because your father had warned you of the huge black Beast, cruel and rough, and I was none of those things.  
  
‘Welcome,’ I said. You were wordless, so I let your eyes drink your fill. You were an awkward, gawky thing then, not yet grown into your adult height and confidence; with no mother to guide you to womanhood, you had no care or thought for cosmetics or fashion or how to wield your femininity to get what you wanted. All this I knew, and more, which is why I appeared to you like I do now. Graceful and comely yet strong and resolute: woman in her peak perfection. Forbidding to you, since I was alien and you secretly longed for all I represented.  
  
Eventually, you said, ‘I was expecting something different.’  
  
‘I know,’ I said, and I smiled. ‘Welcome, Fortuna; I have been expecting you.’  
  
The doors shut behind you for the last time.

 

* * *

  
  
I showed you to your room, and as we walked, I explained the rules to you. You would be given only what you asked for; you could not leave without my presence, and not through the doors; and you were not permitted to leave your room at night. Nothing else was forbidden.  
  
You glanced at me, suspicious. ‘I can leave, as long as you are with me? I thought I couldn’t leave at all!’  
  
‘You heard correctly,’ I said. At the end of a long and shadowed hallway, the very last doorway-- there I left you. You watched me leave, confused and bereft and no longer certain you should have come. With no other choices, you entered your room to find more darkness. This was all-consuming; this darkness threatened to bite you with sharp teeth if you touched it. You backed out, but I had left. You had no candle or lamp or flashlight and you could feel no light-switch on the inside of the walls, and as the hours passed you became more and more uneasy, aware of the onset of night. You were not permitted to leave your room at night.  
  
I came to lock you in.  
  
‘Wait--’ you started, as I began to swing the door shut, walking you inside the darkness. ‘Please--’ you tried again, but then I shut you inside and locked the door from without, leaving you with the sound of your suddenly too-loud, panicked inhalations. You couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in your ears, the sound of your blood pumping, and you flattened yourself against the wall beside the door and collapsed, too tired to remain standing and too frightened to try to search in all-consuming darkness. You did not sleep well, curled around yourself on the floor, waking suddenly to the heavy vibration of footsteps and jumping away farther from the door when growls and snarling came from the other side of it. You weren’t sure if the ravening monster that stalked the halls was worse than the whispering.  
  
Either way, you were glad to see me the next morning when I unlocked the door, smiling enigmatically when you demanded to know what you should do.  
  
‘I told you everything you need to know for now,’ I said, and left again. You were hungry now, and still damp beneath stiff and dirty clothing, and you used the daytime hours to explore the palace; most doors were locked. Several you dared not approach after you heard the sounds beyond them, or the scents, and you found not one helpful item.  
  
‘Please,’ you cried to me, when I came once more to lock you in darkness, ‘please, I need some light, I’ll go mad if I don’t have some light!’  
  
‘I told you everything you need to know,’ I repeated, and you sobbed as I left you. You would get no help from me.  
  
Another night on the floor left you sniffling and listless. You looked at me the following dawn, eyes swollen and defeated. ‘I want light,’ you said, through being polite.  
  
‘All you had to do was ask,’ I said, and the room was flooded with light.

 

* * *

  
  
You quickly grew adept at demanding things. You ordered for breakfast, and a bath, and new clothes; you ordered for softer pillows, another blanket, warm milk; you ordered for lower light so you could nap; and when you were awake, you ordered for books and papers to read. Ignored and alone, you spent most of your time before in the libraries, content to be unhindered, and now you had all the time in the world to read and study. Entire weeks would pass without you setting foot outside your room, devouring book after book, on history, science, art, mathematics, language; you slept well in your comfortable bed, growing accustomed to the whispering and the growling that occurred each night. You were safe and warm, and you were given all that you asked; you wanted for nothing.  
  
You demanded books on the doorkeepers, and they were brought to you, and you poured over them, learning the weaknesses and ways of each of the twelve wardens. There was nothing on the last, but the others were bad enough. You realized your own weaknesses, and sought to learn magic.  
  
‘No one is as adept as I,’ I told you when you had made up your mind to learn the spells and incantations you would need to defeat the warden, ‘and there is no one else who would.’  
  
‘Who _are_ you?’ you asked.  
  
‘Your humble servant and tutor,’ I said, ‘for now.’  
  
We delved into your lessons, and you learned well. No sooner had I started you on one spell then you had grasped it and the next ten beyond. You spent too long in illusion, weaving worlds for yourself, and you nearly lost yourself there as well, too tempted to remain in dreams, dreams that were too perfect, dreams of What Might Have Been, and What Could Be. Hours, days, weeks spent perfecting these fantasies, and they called to you until your limbs were weak with disuse and your face pale from lack of sun, and you ordered me to teach you something else, anything else.  
  
As you commanded. As you always command.  
  
Despite your learning and contentment, you began to long for the outside world, and I taught you how to span the distances, crossing through walls and over seas in the blink of an eye, and you once again wandered the streets of your city, seeing for yourself your families continued successes and failures, visiting the far-away lands you once only read about. I of course went with you, hovering by your elbow, ready to explain or identify. Now you were no longer the hungry, lost girl I first saw sprawled on my doorsteps; you had been watered from the river of knowledge, and now you were confident and self-assured and beautiful. Years had passed, and you were no longer a child, but a young woman, honed and strong. The young men we passed in our travels stared at us with longing faces, slack and stupid; you didn’t care for any of their brutish cruelty.  
  
What you wanted, I gave; and when you demanded to learn the mysteries of the flesh, what hidden ecstasies two could create, I could not refuse. You had been wondering for nearly a month, confused eyes following me where I went, and I knew the shape of your thoughts, could follow to their natural conclusion. I had chosen my very manner, demeanor, and form because I knew what you wanted, what you needed. And so I taught you that as well; and you slept quietly at my breast, never knowing the monster who once stalked the halls and terrorized the nights now lay beside you. You had invited me in, and until you let me go I could not leave.  
  
You came to me a trapped little thing, a bird ensnared, and you have now learned to use that pain, turn it on its head. If only...  
  
Your studies had grown softer now. You were replete with love and with knowledge.  
  
‘Why should I leave?’ you asked me. ‘Do I have to leave?’  
  
‘No,’ I told you, ‘you don’t have to leave. But you will.’  
  
You frowned; you had been bumping up against the limits of existence for some time now, for even magic and sheer will have limits. It displeased you. I smiled to see it. My hungry little Fortuna; and soon you would strike off to seek yourself.  
  
‘There is only so much I can teach you,’ I continued. ‘You will not wish to remain forever. I promise.’  
  
‘I don’t want to go,’ you lied. You were torn then, and you are torn now, dear Fortuna, locked between a hard choice and failure.  
  
But they always choose to leave, too curious about the final doorkeeper that cannot be defeated, too curious and thirsty to prove themselves against the others and the world, that distant Maybe, if you are strong enough, if you have learned enough. Those who do not leave, who cannot force themselves to face their terror of the unknown, well. They soon fade into distant whispers, forced to remain and wander the halls of this palace forevermore.  
  
You are stronger than that. You are better than that. You prepare yourself for battle, the taste of my lips against yours lingering, aiding your courage.  
  


* * *

 

 

Nothing had ever been harder than those battles, the wardens strong beyond belief, and tricky; but you studied well, and your stubbornness carried you through, though you are not unscathed. You crawled away from several of the fights, too tired to stand, shaken to the core. I held you until you could gather yourself and stand to fight, and fight, and fight.  
  
The twelfth doorkeeper leaves you sprawled on the floor, glad to breathe, glad to be alive. You look up when you hear footsteps, but smile when you see it’s only me.  You are wet and shivering and desperate and afraid and desperate for it just to be over, to finally see what horrors you have to face next. You are so beautiful.  
  
But I don’t come help you to your feet, don’t tell you how proud I am, how well you did; no. I walk past you, and I open a door.  
  
Shut in darkness while you battled, the sunlight streaming in through the open doorway, revealing the green of the island beyond, is nearly too much. You don’t understand. You cannot leave through that door.  
  
You don’t understand, and then I plant myself in the doorway, standing between you and the exit, and you understand.  
  
Had you been any less learned, you would have raged against the unfairness of it; I can see it in your eyes, watering from the sunlight and my betrayal, your own betrayal. Now you have to use that attachment against yourself, and you understand. This is the final test. I am the final doorkeeper, and I cannot be defeated.  
  
You struggle to your feet. Tried and tested and tired Fortuna, grown and great and ready; you draw yourself up, searching for the answer to this riddle, to this last trial.  
  
You approach me, and we embrace. The sun is warm on your cheek; is that a heady breath of wind caressing your hair, or only my hand?  
  
You ask me to move aside, to let you go.  
  
My arms drop away, and I watch as you leave to chase your fate.  
  
  
  
_fin_


End file.
